


Nothing Like Thrymskvida

by Arya_Greenleaf



Series: Ship + prompt answers [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Clint Barton's Farm, Domestic Fluff, Hand Jobs, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-04 17:22:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5342234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arya_Greenleaf/pseuds/Arya_Greenleaf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint notices that Steve is running on empty and invites him to come stay at the Barton family home to recuperate. While Steve is there, Thor makes a conveniently timed visit to Midgard. The two are inadvertently caught up in an Asgardian tabloid-worthy wedding scandal and must figure out how they are going to fix the mess they've gotten into... if they want to get out of it at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Like Thrymskvida

**Author's Note:**

> I needed some reasonable means of obtaining a goat. They're significant in Viking wedding rituals and associated with Thor as a god of fertility. Because of that we wound up on the Barton Family Farm and, well, here we are. I regret nothing.
> 
> A response to the anonymous prompt _Steve/Thor + Accidental Marriage_

Dirt sprayed up around him as he skidded backward across the ground on his back. He had dirt down his damned pants, he knew it. He groaned and sat up, brushing himself off. “Really?”

“You said you were ready.”

“I know what I said! Doe’nt mean y’gotta chuck me across the goddamn yard.”

“I shall be more careful with how far I throw you then.” Thor jogged across the yard, putting out a hand to help Steve up. He shook himself out, grimacing at the feel of dirt and pebbles dancing down the inside of his pant legs.

Steve turned, mildly alarmed at how close he’d come to the wooden fence that penned in the Bartons’ small collection of animals. Their newest goat, small and soft looking, bleated at him in either outrage or curiosity, its little face poked through the wide spaces between horizontal slats. “Go back to yer mama.”

“Her name is Gyda.”

“Gyda?” The goat bleated again, as if recognizing her name.

“Yes.”

“I’m guessing Lila didn’t name ‘er?”

“Well, the naming came down to _Princess Butter Muffin_ or Gyda. Cooper chose. He said my name sounded like a cheese.”

Steve snorted in amusement and climbed up and over the fence. “C’mon Gyda, I don’t think Lila’ll be too happy if y’get hurt… and it’ll be all Thor’s fault.” He grinned over his shoulder as he gathered the goat into his arms and walked her into their housing, latching the door when she was safely inside.

***

Steve needed a break before he broke. Clint seemed to recognize his fatigue instinctively, pulling him aside and mentioning that the kids were dying to see him again, that he could use some help around the farm of the big and strong variety now that Nathaniel was getting more mobile and needed more eyes on him. It was a roundabout way to let Steve take a step back before he burned out training with the new Avengers and fledgling agents at the facility.

“You sure you’re not gonna run off?”

“Run off where?”

“Lookin’ for your missin’ person. Your project with Wilson.”

“We haven’t gotten any new leads and we can’t spend our time chasin’ ghosts when there’s work to do. Missing person’s gotta decide he doesn’t wanna stay missing. Besides, Sam’s having way too much fun flight-training with Vision and Wanda. I’m pretty earthbound.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes, Clint, I’m positive.”

“Good.” He’d smiled his knowing smile and clapped Steve on the shoulder. “Lila called dibs on the first piggy-back.”

Steve had been downright nervous when he walked through the door and was met with the sound of Nathaniel crying and Lila and Cooper fighting. He was awful with kids.

Long nights on the USO tour flashed through his memory—holding crying babies and sticky-handed toddlers shoved at him by the show manager; trying to amuse kids who yanked on his costume and wondered why he wasn’t fighting with their brothers and dads.

 He’d encountered plenty of kids since then, but in this decade he was just as stranger on the street or another person in the crowd at the museum. Their mothers and fathers and nannies kept them close at hand. If they noticed him he smiled and moved on. They were generally happy to be recognized and went on their way.

“Rogers,” Clint waved a hand in front of his face. “You look like you’re havin’ a stroke.”

“Sorry. It’s just…”

“Loud.”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll get used to it. C’mon, Laura already made up the guest room for ya.”

Thor arrived on what was apparently a spur of the moment trip a few days later. How was he supposed to be Midgard’s Protector, he’d asked, if he spent no time on Midgard? There was no further movement in the other realms regarding the Infinity Stones, Asgard was still slowly rebuilding what had been damaged during the attack by the Dark Elves. There was nothing happening that needed his immediate attention. “And I missed my friends.”

“Yeah, well, I miss havin’ a lawn that doesn’t have a big ol’ Asgardian burn mark in it. But it’s good to see ya.”

“I’ll grab sheets for the pull-out.” Laura passed the baby to Thor without a second thought. He looked impossibly tiny in Thor’s massive arms.

“Thank you.” Thor smiled down at Nathaniel, who immediately reached out to grasp the end of the tiny braid hanging down over Thor’s shoulder.

Steve insisted on doing the dishes that night. Laura looked exhausted, Clint was occupied with bath-wet hair that needed to be combed. It was the least he could do. Laura leaned against the counter, remarking that this visit was far more pleasant than the last one. “And a lot less crowded.” Steve laughed and she flicked soap bubbles at him. “Thank you again, Steve. I might _actually_ get a solid few hours in tonight.” She laughed quietly as she walked out of the kitchen, “Captain America is washing my dishes.”

Steve listened to the pound of feet up the stairs and across the rooms over head as Clint got the kids settled for the night. “Hey.” He spoke softly, leaning into the warmth of the hand on the small of his back. “You sure yer okay with the couch? I don’t mind sharin’ or switchin’.”

“Of course I’m sure. My wish is not to impose on anyone. Simply to be with my friends.”

“How is Asgard, really?”

“Asgard is fine in spite of my worries.”

Clint cleared his throat from the doorway. “That is not how you dry dishes.” Thor pulled away. “Now, I know you’re a prince n’all, but somehow I don’t think that should be a foreign concept. You gotta actually pick up a dish _and_ a towel.”

***

“How about something a little more challenging, yes?” Thor stuck his hand out and Mjolnir flew from her place on the porch toward him. “I shall go easy on you.”

Steve grinned and jogged to where his shield was resting at the ready against the fence.

Steve thought, in the micro-seconds between breaths and blocks and blows, that sparring with Thor this way was more like dancing. They twisted and turned around each other, narrowly avoiding the blunt corners of Mjolnir and the hard edges of the shield. Steve jumped and turned when Thor went low, ducked down and swept at his legs when he went high. He thrust the shield up, always fascinated by the lack of vibration translating from the impact of the hammer against it, amazed at the utter lack of sound.

Cooper whooped and cheered from the porch, his hair blown back like he was caught in a windstorm, hopping excitedly from one foot to the other. The screen door banged open against the outside of the house, “Hey!” Both Steve and Thor turned toward the alarmed sound of Clint’s voice. “No thundershielding in the yard, dammit! Yer gonna give the futzin’ chickens a heartattack!”

“ _Hawkeye!_ ” A dishtowel flew out from the kitchen and landed against the back of Clint’s head.

“Sorry! Geeze!” An accusatory finger shot out. “Knock it off… or yer both in time-out.” He cracked a smile and turned back inside. Cooper was barely holding back his snickering.

A few moments later, Lila came bounding down the porch steps with an oversized bottle in her hands. “Mom says you have to take Gyda out so I can feed her!”

Steve sighed, he was just warming up—his body thrumming and humming, a sheen of sweat across his brow, his cheeks flushing with heat. “Alright then.” He set the shield against the fence once more, Thor setting Mjolnir beside it and holding the gate open for him.

“Steve you’re all dirty.”

“I know, Lila.” He came back through the gate with Gyda cradled in his arms, bleating in either alarm or curiosity. “Where do ya wanna sit?”

Lila pointed clear across the yard to the gentle slope at the edge of the property. There were targets a little way off, arrows from earlier in the morning when Cooper had been shooting still sticking out of them. Lila led the way, plopping down abruptly in a patch of grass lush with weedy yellow and white flowers. Steve and Thor trailed behind her, sitting down a bit more carefully. The little girl directed them to either side of her, their legs extended and feet touching. “Leg fence,” she explained and put her arms out for the goat. She spent time cooing and scratching its head before offering it the bottle she’d been toting. Gyda finished her meal quickly with all the enthusiasm of a child and promptly fell asleep across Lila’s lap. The girl feigned dismay, “Oh well, guess we can’t move now… you wouldn’t wanna wake a sleepin’ baby…” She raised her eyebrows and plucked a yellow bloom from the lawn, inspecting it for ants before picking another and threading them together.

Lila recruited Steve and Thor to her efforts quickly, directing them to pick the flowers out of the grass around them with the longest stems. She’d finished weaving one circlet and was well on her way through the second when Gyda woke, roused by Lila reaching across her fury body to pluck a new flower from the ground. The goat promptly craned her neck upward and attempted to eat Lila’s crown.

“No!”

Thor acted quickly, snatching the carefully crafted headpiece away from Gyda’s curious mouth. He sat up on his knees and leaned over, placing it over Steve’s head. The flowers were only a little nibbled, the circlet stayed intact. “There, now she cannot reach.”

Cooper jogged across the wide yard, huffing and puffing. He snickered, biting down on his bottom lip when Steve looked up at him.  “Mom says you can’t come to dinner until you put clean clothes on, Cap.”

“Did she make mac and cheese?” His sister looked hopeful.

“Uh huh.”

Lila looked down at the second crown in her hands, “Nathaniel will just grab it.” She frowned for a moment as she got to her feet. “You have it.” Thor bent his head reverently for Lila to place the flowers down. She picked up the empty bottle and took off across the yard after her brother, screeching about who would get to sit between Steve and Thor at the table.

Gyda followed Thor readily back to the gate and toward the little penned in area where her mother was waiting. He bent down to pet them affectionately, a content smile on his face. The crown slipped off the back of his head as he straightened up, Steve quick to catch and replace it. Thor grinned, “Thank you. Now, shall we follow orders and get cleaned up?”

“Sounds good to me.” Steve’s stomach rumbled as if on cue. They both stooped to pick up their respective weapons at the same time. “Ow!” Steve swiped at his lip. Thor frowned and rubbed the top of his head.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Steve laughed, glancing at the blood on his fingers. “You got me good.”

“I guess my skull _is_ as thick as Loki liked to imply.” Thor smiled, soft and slow, reaching out to run his thumb across the very bottom of Steve’s lip. “I think you shall live.”

Steve sucked the lip into his mouth, running his tongue back and forth across the thin split. “I think so.” His stomach growled again. “C’mon, before Clint eats all the macaroni.” He grinned and took off at a sprint, Thor laughing behind him and catching up quickly with his long strides. They both squeezed into the doorway, breathless, with Clint rolling his eyes and shaking his head as he placed utensils on the table.

He took his time changing, brushing off the streaks of filth from the backs of his legs and arms with the already soiled shirt. He turned around in a circle, realizing he’d worn the last of his clean clothes and not keen on the prospect of putting his pajamas on to go down to dinner. It just didn’t seem respectful. It was then that he noticed the stack of neatly folded laundry sitting on the chair in the corner, still warm from the drier. Steve dressed and bounded down the stairs two at a time. Thor was already seated, helping to dish out generous spoonfuls of golden, sticky macaroni from the large pot in the center of the table to Cooper on one side of him and Lila at the head of the table. Steve sat down in the empty seat beside Cooper, a little overwhelmed by the flurry of activity at the family table for the first time since he’d arrived.

It was Friday, he’d been there a week.

It had been awkward at first. He felt like an outsider. He felt _other_ in this household full of love and laughter. But Clint and Laura and their children had been so welcoming and warm, they’d accepted him into their home and their lives without a second thought. They found a place for him to fit.

Thor had slipped right in, fit right in.

It had been so easy. All of it.

But watching the contented flurry of activity around him then, he felt as though a stone was forming in the pit of his stomach. It was rolling around and growing in size, collecting the negative humors from his body and condensing into a solid formation of self-loathing.

He didn’t deserve any of this… this _tangible_ sense of belonging.

He’d wanted it all, so badly. A family, people who loved him, a home.

And every time he started to find just that, he failed in some massive way.

People got hurt. Their worlds changed irreparably.

Steve snapped back into the world outside of his head. Cooper was patting his arm gently, “Steve? Cap?” He was holding out a plate heaped with gooey macaroni and buttery carrots and crisp green beans. Cooper gave him a mildly concerned, expectant expression.

“S-sorry, buddy. Spaced out there.” He took the plate from the boy’s hands and thanked him.

“It’s okay, dad spaces out too, sometimes.” Cooper patted his arm again and asked if Steve would pour him some water from the pitcher.

Hours and several pounds of pasta and cheese later, dinner was finished and the kids ran off onto the porch to sit on the swing and savor scoops of ice cream between them in the cool evening air, lightening bugs coming to life and making the oversized yard beyond the porch glitter.

Clint settled with Nathaniel in his arms, sprawled against the corner of the couch with his leg up along the back. Laura traced the seam of his pant leg back and forth as they all chatted.

“How’s Dr. Foster? You talked to ‘er this morning, right?”

Thor grinned and nodded. He told them of Jane’s excitement over her latest project—the most recent in a series of smaller projects meant to truly unlock the mechanics of the Bifrost, or Einstein-Rosen Bridge as she called it.

Steve smiled and listened to Thor talk about Jane, soaking in his enthusiasm for her work. He smiled and watched Laura’s touches and Clint’s glances.

Laura raised a brow, “So, you and Dr. Foster.”

“Yes?”

“Am I going to get to attend an intergalactic wedding any time soon?”

Thor’s booming laughter was almost jarring. “Jane and I care for each other very much, that much is exceedingly true. But we hardly get to spend any time together, at least lately. Back home, we’re still rebuilding. We’re still trying to reestablish Asgard’s authority after Malekith’s attack. The damage was as much political as it was physical. And there is of course the question of the Infinity Stones—where the next one is going to turn up, what plans require their reveal and use. The only one I am truly confident in saying is safe is the one with Vision.” Three pairs of eyes looked at him expectantly. “And Jane,” his smile was soft and fond. “She is… married to her work, as you would say. She is making progress in leaps and bounds, new discoveries every day—I dare not pull her away from it for too long.”

Clint’s lips pursed and he squinted, “So you’re on a break?” His first syllable was stretched out and held. “Seen that on way too many TV shows. Never works.”

“Well, so far it is working for us. It would not be fair to either of us to impose the pressure of maintaining such a long distance relationship, especially when we are both so busy, for lack of better words. When we do see each other it is always a happy reunion, on both sides. Much happier, I think, without that pressure.”

Steve continued to smile, his expression stiff and false, and felt cold and alone.

“Man, you look like you could use a drink.” Barton raised a brow as he maneuvered the fussy baby from his arms to Laura’s, trying to jostle him as little as possible. “You okay?”

Steve barked out a short laugh, “I’m… I’m fine. Just got a lot on my mind, I guess.”

“You’re supposed to be here to _relax_ , Steve.” Clint squeezed his shoulder hard as he passed by, going through to the kitchen. He returned with a cardboard caddy of frosty beer bottles, clinking as he moved, a bottle tucked under his arm and two glasses between his fingers. He placed the glasses in front of Steve and Thor with the bottle. “Got that for Christmas last year. Can’t really stand the stuff, didn’t have the heart to re-gift it after I Googled what the hell it was.”

The green bottle and silvery-white label glittered in the yellowish light from the lamp beside Laura. _Laphroaig_. Thor picked the bottle up and paused, asking silent permission before unscrewing the cap. He sniffed at the mouth of the bottle, letting the scent of the whiskey waft up toward him. He raised a brow and poured a finger.

“Do you want anything, hon?” Laura declined and indicated the still half-full mug of coffee on the table. Clint settled back into the dent he’d made in the couch cushions, a beer casually in hand. The label said it was a black chocolate stout. The loopy, bold _B_ said it was from Brooklyn. Steve wondered how Barton had managed to get his hands on a seasonal, local brew in the middle of nowhere. He suspected Romanov. His heart unclenched just slightly, the reassurance that those two and their magnificent partnership were everlasting a balm to his loathing.

Thor passed the second glass to Steve. The scent of smoke and spice hit him full in the face. He took a probative sip. The whiskey burned almost-pleasantly as it hit the back of his throat.

“Good?” Steve nodded. With the inability to get drunk, he was forced to enjoy things about alcohol that weren’t related to the physical effects. “Take it with ya when you leave.”

Later, Steve would be baffled that Clint would so freely give away such an expensive gift. He was forever surprised by Barton and the way he let life flow over him like a stone in the river. For now, he was grateful for the warmth of the drink and the company.

While Steve poured himself a third portion of the whiskey, drinking just a finger at a time, the house rustled to life with activity once more. Laura excused herself to put the finally sleeping Nathaniel down for the night. Clint gathered Lila and Cooper from the porch swing, a jar full of fireflies between them, and herded them up the stairs after a round of good-nights. Thor disappeared up the stairs to change into his night-clothes. He returned before the others, producing the silver flask he’d brought to the party at Stark’s that had changed everything.

“Try this.” Thor smiled as he tipped the bright golden liquid from the flask into Steve’s glass, diluting the scent of the whiskey with bright, sweet notes. Steve sipped tentatively and smiled back. “Pairs well, yes? I shall have to inform the dwarves.”

The next few glasses were more Asgardian mead than Scotch. Steve’s head began to swim, his limbs felt warm and loose. The casual conversation of the reconvened adults of the house crawled around him, his vision softened and blurred in an elegant lens flare effect. The room lurched forward when Steve shifted his position. “ _Jesus_. That—that’s not the stuff y’brought las’time.”

“No, it is a different brew. Fermented slightly longer, older barrels.”

“Is Captain America drunk?”

“I—I don’t think so. Just a little buzzed.” He looked up and grinned, feeling totally ridiculous, heat rising into his cheeks. Thor took the glass from his hands and finished it. Steve was suddenly overwhelmed by fatigue. His eyelids felt heavy. The last time he’d gotten drunk popped into his head. It had been the Easter before he’d joined the Army.

He’d been missing his Ma and angry that everyone else was happy with their families at Mass that morning and dressed in their best clothes and bonnets and chattering about what a lovely lamb grandma had made for dinner. He’d drank cheap beer until he passed out, which hadn’t been that much, and woken hours later to a concerned set of Barnes siblings shouting at each other about whether to chuck Steve in the back of the family car and drive him to the hospital or to call an ambulance. They’d come to collect him for dinner and found him on the floor in the doorway between the closet of a bedroom he and Bucky shared, their twin beds crammed against the walls, and the slightly less cramped living room of their railroad.

Steve’s stomach flipped over. “I think… I think I’m gonna go’da bed, if you guys don’t mind.”

“Not at all. Sleep well, Steve. Holler if you need anything.” Laura caught his fingers as he moved around the back of their couch toward the stairs and squeezed them.

Thor rose from his seat. “I shall see you safely there.”

Steve furrowed his brow, confused and annoyed. “I’m not sloshed, Thor.”

“All the same.” The light hand at the small of his back urged him gently toward the first step.

Thor closed the guest room door behind himself as Steve sat down hard on the edge of the bed, bouncing slightly. “What’s this all about?” Steve peeled his socks off and chucked them toward the hamper. “Lookin’ ta take advantage of a damsel in distress?”

Thor sat down beside him, hands on his knees. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” His big warm hand moved from his own knee to Steve’s. “You looked like something was bothering you. You’ve looked like something has been bothering you all evening.”

The wilted flower crown sitting on the night table caught his eye. His stomach clenched and unclenched. Steve stood, yanking his shirt up and over his head and folding it to wear again in the morning. He shimmied out of his jeans and into a pair of sweats.

“Steve?”

“Nothin’s wrong.” He turned around, taking the room in, feeling suddenly like a guest at a hotel rather than a guest in a home. His head spun as he turned, his senses soft and wobbly. “Why do you like it here?” He spat the question out more forcefully than he’d intended, lowering his tone at the end, remembering the hour.

“I enjoy your company. I enjoy Barton and his family. This is a pleasant estate to spend time at—“

“No, _here_. Earth. Midgard. Why do you like it here?”

Thor frowned at the floor, silent for a few heartbeats. “When I am here, I am like anyone else. Another person on a crowded train or sitting at the bar or next to someone in a theater. When we are not _avenging_ , of course.”

Steve was always amazed at the offhand way that Thor mentioned doing such normal, human things—always amazed at how utterly _normal_ Thor was, if you could forget he was a prince from another world.

“But yer _not_.” Thor cocked his head, listening. “You never can be, y’know that. You’re… _Thor_.”

And he was Captain America.

Hard-muscled shoulders shrugged. “When I am not engaged in battle it is quite easy to simply _be_. If I am not wearing my cape and armor it is very surprising how few people spare me much more than a second glance.”

Steve’s chest seized with envy over the easy way Thor regarded things.

“When I am home, when I am on Asgard—things are not so simple. There is much expected of me. Every move I make is scrutinized. I love my home, my family, my friends but… it can be overwhelming. Something I am sure you know a little of.” Steve nodded and sat back down. Thor took his chin gently, turning his face. Steve leaned into it, his body betraying him and acting out the need in his heart.

Thor pulled away and smacked his palm against the pillows. “You should get settled. Your cheeks are quite red.”

Steve felt the boozy flush in his cheeks flood the rest of his face and race down over his neck and shoulders. Thor smirked and rose from his seat, crossing the room to the door. Steve listened to the quick squeaks and groans of the worn wooden steps under Thor’s stride as he slid back across the comforter against the head of the bed, the cool metal making goosebumps instantly raise against the back of his neck.

Asgardian mead seemed to turn him into a ninety-pound, socially awkward idiot prone to spewing verbal vomit and lacking control over any physical manifestation of his feelings.

Steve prayed that Thor was staying downstairs, his face in his hands while he tried to calm himself enough to lie down and sleep.

His feet were cold. He nudged the afghan draped across the foot of the bed with his toes until his feet were covered. The rest of him was still warm with blush and frustration.

“I shall have to remember not to bring that particular vintage with me again if it effects you so. I do enjoy sharing drink with you. It would be a shame to cause you any future unpleasantness.” Steve peeked out from behind his fingers at Thor’s sunny-bright smile and the tall glass of ice water he was holding out. “I fear I interrupted a rather amorous moment downstairs. I’d intended only to bring you this, but I think I must intrude on your hospitality a while longer.”

Steve snorted out a laugh, imagining the look on Clint’s face as Thor strolled through the living room. “Yer not intrudin’.” He accepted the glass and took a long sip, the cool water instantly making him feel less warm with overworked nerves. “I’m sorry.”

Thor shrugged and settled himself against the footboard, socked feet resting just next to Steve’s waist as he stretched out. His hand landed firmly on Steve’s shin, thumb rubbing back and forth over the soft fabric of Steve’s sweatpants. “Chalk it up to unexpected inebriation and a person who keeps things bottled up. Apology accepted.”

Steve laughed outright, “I’m not _inebriated_. Just not used to actually feeling much of anything anymore.” He frowned at himself and took another gulp from his glass. His focus zeroed in on the hand on his shin. “Tell me about home. You never talk about it.”

“No one really asks.”

“I’m askin’.”

Thor smiled, soft and fond. “Where shall I begin?”

Two hours slipped by like nothing. There was a soft knock on the door frame, Barton’s head appearing around the edge. “Everything okay?” Steve and Thor were stifling laughter, trying to be quiet as Thor related the story of how his friend Fandral came to be called _the Dashing_.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine, Clint.”

“Y’sure?” Steve nodded and covered his mouth to hold his laugh back when Thor pulled a face. “Christ, somehow I just got two more kids.” Nathaniel began to cry somewhere down the hall. Clint winced. “He keeps that up, _you two_ are dealin’ with it.”

“Sorry, Clint.” Steve managed to look contrite even with the urge to burst out with sound pooled in his belly as Thor discretely ran his fingertips up and down the sensitive sole of Steve’s bare foot.

Clint waved him off. “Couch is free.” He cleared his throat. “Sorry ‘bout that, y’know, before.”

Thor laughed soundlessly, his belly bouncing with it. “It is your home. And I can imagine you mustn’t have much private time together. I should be apologizing for not announcing myself.”

Barton smiled sheepishly and asked if either of them needed anything before he went to bed. Nathaniel had quieted, either having comforted himself or Laura gone to tend to him. “Alright then.” He started to leave and doubled back, “Steve you leavin’ tomorrow?”

Steve bit his lip and looked down at his hands, “Can I stay ‘till Sunday?”

“Yeah, man, of course. Tash should be gettin’ back from schmoozing the political peacocks on Monday, figured I’d head over. We can fly out together, save a trip.” Thor asked if he might tag along and was answered in the affirmative. “And as payment for the extra night’s stay in this grand hotel, you can finish splittin’ that pile’a logs.” Clint grinned and ducked out into the hallway once more. They listened to the sound of the master bedroom door opening and closing.

Thor stretched and stood. “It is late. You should sleep.” Thor grinned and pulled the folded afghan up over Steve’s legs and waist. “We will get through the logs easily in the morning.” He patted Steve’s shoulder tenderly, warm skin on warm skin. “Rest well, my friend.” Steve grabbed Thor’s wrist as he began to move away. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Steve’s eyes searched Thor’s face and shoulders and the gap between his throat and the collar of his tee-shirt for the words he needed. He sat up, his mouth opening and closing around silence.

Steve surprised himself when he pulled Thor closer and pressed his lips to Thor’s.

He was even more surprised when instead of jerking away in alarm or disgust, Thor sat down on the edge of the mattress and moved in closer, parting his lips and deepening the kiss.

Steve followed with his mouth when Thor finally pulled away, a soft whimper escaping him and making him feel absurd.

“Let me close the door, yes?” Steve nodded. In the blink of an eye Thor was beside him again, pulling him up and in like damsel in a black and white film.

Steve kicked the afghan away. Thor’s body was heavy and solid over his own, radiating warmth. It was like he’d become an octopus, hands everywhere at once. Stomach, shoulders, arms, chest. Thumbs rubbed hard over nipples and pressed into the hollows behind his jaw. Feet tangled, knees shifted and rubbed. Hips slid together hard.

Steve was breathless and wheezing as he yanked at the hem of Thor’s shirt, pulling it up and over his head, laughing when it caught like a Sister’s habit before he tossed it to land somewhere on the floor.

Thor’s eyes fluttered closed, his breath coming out in a rush when Steve reached down, palming his erection through his pajama pants. “Yes,” he huffed.

Thor pulled away, leaving Steve feeling cold and abandoned. He shucked his pants and socks. Steve shimmied and stripped, feeling that if he moved from the indentation he was occupying in the bedding that it would all just end. A dream.

Thor seized the elastic band of his shorts and yanked them down roughly, Steve’s legs flailing for a moment in the air with the force of the motion.

He was on Steve again in seconds, the springs of the mattress squeaking as they bounced. Steve wrapped a leg high around Thor’s waist, responding to the pressure of fingers on his thigh and gripping the swell of his ass.

Steve made a most undignified sound when calloused fingers swept down between his cheeks, brushing against his intimate spaces, prodding at muscle and skin.

He thought fleetingly that he didn’t have anything resembling a rubber or lube.

Thor shifted away, the space between their bodies allowing Steve’s cock to bob freely, his pulse making it twitch, a string of clear fluid connecting the head and clenched muscles of his stomach.

Thor spat in his hand and pressed their hips together, his long fingers wrapping easily around the both of them. Steve kissed him drunkenly, mostly missing his mouth and getting his stubbly chin and cheeks. They moved together, fast and hard. The otherwise quiet room filled with the sounds of their legs and hips smacking together. The friction, at first, was uncomfortable—mostly dry skin pressed tight and rubbing up and down, Steve’s foreskin catching against Thor’s fingers. The situation was easily remedied when Thor let go, those fingers probing into Steve’s wiling mouth and sliding over his tongue and teeth. In hand again it was smoother, arousal beading and slipping down from head to shaft easing the action further.

Steve reached his peak, his legs locking tightly, fingers digging into a hank of hair. He shuddered hard, a full-body tremble, his eyes watering and the wetness slipping over his cheeks as he thrust his hips hard against Thor.

How long since he’d been touched so intimately? Not the poking, prodding, and pulling of a SHIELD doctor but a lover’s touch, attentive and hot and full of need?

Exhaustion swept over him. He held on, kissing and mouthing at the junction between Thor’s neck and shoulder as he went along for the ride. Thor’s hand shook, squeezed tight and sped up. His hips pressed impossibly close, like he was trying to push Steve through the mattress and onto the floor below. He made a sound, low and throaty and slowed his motion.

They laid wrapped together, panting and shaking, for what felt like ages.

Eventually, Steve lowered his leg and forced his arms to move. “Fuck.” His breath came out in short huffs, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Perhaps another time.” Thor’s voice was low and soft, a purr into the crook of Steve’s neck as he wrapped his large frame around Steve’s, his movements as if he were a much smaller man.

Steve laid there, twisting his fingers into the loose strands of Thor’s hair, staring up at the ceiling in the low light. An inexplicable mixture of desire and contentment and guilt curled up in his gut. His eyes stung with silent tears that rolled over the sides of his face, tracking slowly through his sideburns and dropping against the shells of his ears.

He sniffed and rubbed a rough hand across his nose and eyes.

“What is wrong?”

“Nothin’.”

“I’ve never known a partner who cried after sex.”

“’M not cryin’.” Thor leaned up on an elbow, looking down at Steve sternly. He wiped a tear away with his thumb and ran his fingers across the barely noticeable swelling where Steve’s bottom lip was split. “Just—“ He sighed at a loss for words.

“Feeling?”

“Yeah.” He brushed his hand down across his chest and stomach, wrinkling his nose when he touched the puddle of cooling, tacky spoof near his navel. Thor peeled himself away and crossed the room to the laundry hamper where Steve’s discarded shorts were dangling comically. The image of Thor’s hands pulling them over his legs and pitching them away carelessly sent a thrill through him.

Steve watched the pull of muscle in Thor’s legs as he moved, gratefully accepting the shorts to wipe himself off with, full of wonder at the casual way Thor took them back to do the same, putting them rightfully into the hamper after, and then crawled back onto the bed beside Steve.

“Rest.” Thor pressed a soft kiss to the corner of Steve’s mouth and reached back to turn out the light.

***

The last time Steve remembered sleeping so well was the night before Rebirth. He’d been serene, content with the decision he’d made and prepared to face the outcome whatever it was. Upon waking from his night with Thor—a pleasant night filled with warm skin and half-waking kisses and gentle caresses with rough hands—the first thing that struck him was how cold he felt.

Thor was gone and he’d taken the blanket of warmth from his heavy limbs with him. Steve’s teeth chattered and he pulled the comforter up over his head, rubbing himself warm underneath it. He hazarded a look at the digital clock beside the bed. It was well past eight. The sun was high and bright as it filtered through the curtains. Sufficiently warmed, he sat up and noticed his sweatpants draped over the footboard with care. He grinned as he swung his feet over the side of the bed and quickly shimmied into them. He yanked a shirt over his head casually as he crossed the room and opened the door.

Steve waited his turn at the closed bathroom door, nodding acknowledgement at Clint when he emerged. “Slept in?” He nodded. “Hung over?”

“No. Told ya, I wasn’t drunk.”

“I’m just teasing.”

“Thor up?”

“Yeah, kids woke ‘im up when they barreled down the stairs like a herd’a damned elephants like an hour ago. I think they forgot he was on the couch. You need somethin’?”

“Just wondering.”

Steve scrutinized himself in the mirror as he ran the water in the sink, waiting for it to warm enough to wash his face and then brushed his teeth.

He felt like he was staring at a stranger. His hair had gotten longer than he’d worn it since he moved to DC. He felt like he looked older, wearier, in spite of the sleep he’d gotten. He wanted to fix it, change it. If he looked like he was worth something maybe he’d feel like it—capture just a little bit of what he felt the night before and carry it around.

“Can I sneak in here a sec?”

Steve blinked rapidly, pulled out of his self-scrutiny by the sound of Laura’s voice. He took the toothbrush dangling from his mouth out and ran it under the faucet. “Sorry. I’ll be out in a moment.”

“Take your time, just needed the brush.” Laura swept her hair back into a ponytail with swift hands and put the brush back down on the counter while Steve rinsed his mouth. “Sleeping on your feet there, Rogers?”

Steve shook his head, “Just thinking.” He frowned at the mirror again and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to make it sit in some semblance of order.

“About what? A haircut?”

He shrugged, “Maybe.”

“I could do it.” Steve raised a brow and turned back to the mirror again. “How do you think Clint keeps up that _I just woke up this way_ look?” A sly smiled rolled over her lips.

“You sure?”

“I do it all the time. Why trek all the way into town when I can do it myself? Everyone’s wash-and-wear in this house.” She slipped past him an opened the cabinet over the toilet, pulling out a vinyl bag. “C’mon, scoot.” She shooed Steve out of the bathroom and closed the door. The sound of furniture scraping against the floor came from the other side before she opened it again, a stool that had been behind it now in the middle of the floor.

“Right now?”

“Why not?” Steve sat down, still feeling too tall for what they were going to do, slouching his shoulders forward. Laura unzipped the vinyl bag to reveal a set of electric clippers, different heads with numbers on them floating around in the bag. “You wanna go back to something…”

“Old timey?” She nodded. “No. Just cleaner, I guess.”

“Regulation?” Steve shook his head. He’d had enough of regulations. “A Hawkeye Special?”

Steve laughed, thinking he’d look ridiculous with Clint’s cut. “Maybe… shorter down here—“ He waved his hands at the sides and back of his head. “—little longer up here?” He passed a hand over the top of his head.

“Like an undercut.” Steve looked confused. Laura rattled off the name of some actor as she draped a bath towel over his shoulders.

“Oh! No. Longer than that. Not all shaved down. Shorter on top.”

“I think I got it.” Steve cringed as she turned the clippers on and they started to buzz. “Y’trust me?”

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Do it.” Steve tried to focus on anything other than the bits of hair falling down past his ears as Laura worked. “Can I ask you somethin’ personal?”

Laura’s tongue disappeared from between her teeth, her look of concentration not wavering. “Depends on how personal.”

“How’d you guys meet?” He thought of how Clint had met Natasha—enemy operatives not meant to leave the other alive. He could see Laura’s sunny face on an undercover mission, gaining a target’s trust. A master of disguise and hand-to-hand combat like Peggy had been. He could see her in a smart suit or a tailored dress, head high and shoulders back as she walked through the corridors of SHIELD.

“Me and Clint?” Steve made a noise of affirmation. “I guess, like anybody else meets. Kinda randomly.” Steve looked at her in the bottom edge of the mirror over the sink with interest. “I was living in New York at the time, needed a change of scenery. Country girl most of my life, big city sounded like it would be an adventure.”

“Was it?”

“Not really. I didn’t like it. Just… too many people. I was trying to figure out the best way to quit my job after I’d only been there a few months—and still walk out with a good recommendation—when I ran into Clint. He gave me a reason to stay put a little longer.”

“Oh?”

“It’s completely corny, you absolutely don’t want to hear it.”

“I met the love of my life when she decked a guy hadda have at least sixty pounds on her. There were fireworks. I know corny, believe me.”

Laura laughed, “Now you have to tell me that story if I tell you this one.”

“Deal.”

“Well, it was one of those mornings where it’s like every single person in the city decided to get coffee at the same time at the very same Starbucks that you walked into. One minute, it was just a long line. I was pretty close to the door, there were maybe twelve people in front of me. I wasn’t really in much of a rush so I didn’t mind. The baristas were movin’ pretty fast. I looked down to answer a text and next thing I knew the place was a virtual fire hazard. This jackass pushed me, nearly knocked my phone right out of my hands, and then apologized. He was so sincere. He’d been trying to hold the door open for someone else trying to escape the damned place and got pushed right into me.”

“Somehow it doesn’t sound like getting shoved in a Starbucks should lead to marriage.” Laura snorted in amusement. She put the electric clippers down and switched over to a pair of scissors that made swift sounds as they opened and closed. More hair fell. Steve avoided the mirror.

“Well, I accepted his apology for starters. Somehow the twelve people in line in front of me had turned into twenty. We chatted for a few minutes, practically shouting at each other it had gotten so loud. Honestly, no cup of coffee was worth that crowd. There was one of those breakfast carts on the street another block over, we sort of wiggled our way out to freedom.”

“Breakfast carts have the best coffee.”

“They do. At least in the city.” Steve grinned, feeling nostalgic even though the short time he’d spent back in New York after he’d been found in the ice hadn’t been entirely pleasant.

“So I said to him,” she did an impression of her own voice, “Didn’t quite catch your name in there. And he says to me, and you seriously will not believe this,” She cleared her throat for a dead-on impression of her husband. “Barton, Clint Barton.” Steve raised a brow, sharing Laura’s mild mortification. “I asked him what he did for a living and he had the nerve to tell me he was a spy and _of course_ I thought he was full of shit.” She put her scissors down and ran her fingers through Steve’s hair, clearly pleased with her work. “But he was cute so I let him pay for my coffee and a croissant and by the next week we were on a date at that trapeze school down at the piers. Funnily enough I didn’t feel like I was going to die. I just sort of… trusted he’d catch me.”

Steve thought the story of their meeting was better than anything his imagination had conjured.

It was exceedingly pleasant to think of normal people doing normal things like having a chance meeting at a coffee shop.

Laura carefully took the towel away from Steve’s shoulders, shaking the trimmings into the garbage pail carefully. Steve stood and took a deep breath before looking himself square in the eye in the mirror.

“How’s it look?”

Steve smiled, pleased with the transformation, “Good. Real good.” Laura made a surprised sound when Steve squeezed her in a firm hug. “Thank you.”

“It’s nothing, Steve.”

It wasn’t nothing.

They moseyed down the stairs together, the sounds of Saturday morning cartoons growing louder as they neared the landing. “Thank you for the laundry too, by the way. Y’didn’t have to do that.”

Laura shrugged, “I was doing Nathaniel’s stuff, wasn’t enough for a full load—everything’s so tiny. Didn’t want to waste the water.”

“ _Mo-om_!” Cooper appeared at the bottom of the stairs, forcing them to halt. “I wanna read the funnies and Thor won’t move his _haa-mer_!” Thor twisted around to look over his shoulder and grinned mischievously.

Clint walked by behind him as he came through the door, a basket full of eggs tucked under his arm. He ruffled Cooper’s hair, “Told ya t’just move it yourself, bud.”

“It’s too _heavy_.”

Steve let himself be dragged by the wrist into the living room. “Aww, c’mon, Thor. You know no one else can lift that thing.”

“But it is so much fun watching you all try.” Thor was already dressed, his hair in a sleek braid.

Cooper looked imploringly at Steve, “Sorry, Coop, I can’t move it either.”

“Then what good’re all them muscles?” The boy pouted.

“Go on, Steve.” Thor’s smile had gone from sly to soft.

“You just wanna watch me make a fool of myself again.” He plopped down onto the couch beside Thor. “I can’t help ya, kiddo.”

Cooper frowned so hard Steve thought his face might break and slunk off toward the kitchen where eggs were sizzling in a frying pan.

“Why will you not try?”

“Because I already know what’ll happen.” He smiled, the expression more resigned than anything. _I’m not good enough._ “That hammer, being able to lift it… that’s _you_. That’s… a part of you.”

“Are you afraid to offend me?” Steve shrugged, not quite knowing the right words. “I am not offended that Vision can wield Mjolnir. Why would I be offended on the occasion that you might?”

“Thor, when I tried the last time—“

“The hammer moved.”

“And I saw your face when it did.”

“I was worried, yes. And I was glad when you failed, I will admit that. But I have had much time to think since then. To think what it would mean to have someone else—someone like you—be able to use Mjolnir. Do you want to know what I have concluded?” His expression was open and honest. “I think that I would be honored to be in such company.” He cupped the side of Steve’s face warmly and gestured with his brows toward the top of Steve’s head. “Looks good on you.”

Steve blushed and pulled away, “Thanks.”

“Guys, breakfast’s ready!”

The morning meal was as lively as any of the other’s he’d shared with the Barton family, perhaps more so in the spirit of the weekend. He made a face of mock rage when the grape Lila flung across the table smacked him square in the forehead.

He was morally obligated to fling one back. It sailed over her head and splashed in the sink behind her.

The sick feeling in Steve’s chest and stomach from the night before had dissipated. Even if it was only a temporary reprieve, he was glad. Without that feeling the world seemed a little brighter. The warmth of the love the household was bursting with resettled in his bones.

Steve felt like less of a failure.

He wasn’t perfect, not by far.

He had a long way to go, he was sure, before he could begin to feel comfortable in his skin again after all that had happened since the ice.

He’d never save everyone that needed saving.

He’d always feel like he hadn’t done enough.

But that didn’t mean he was a bad person.

Didn’t mean he didn’t do good things.

It didn’t mean he didn’t deserve happiness—that he didn’t deserve to have all of this, or something like it, something that fit. A home.

Steve was a good man. At the very least he made a conscious choice to try to be. If he ever stopped trying, he had no right to call himself Captain America any longer—why had Dr. Erskine chosen him in the first place?

With the breakfast dishes cleared Thor declared that he was ready to finish off the woodpile if Steve was. Steve said he’d be out in a moment, he just wanted to get dressed. The kids took off down the stairs to the basement, challenges from one to the other about a high score in some dancing game. Laura headed up the stairs to check on Nathaniel while Clint put the previous round of cleaned dishes away in the cabinets.

Steve walked through the living room, smiling to himself, thinking of how ridiculous the funk he’d been in was. He moved past the coffee table where Mjolnir was still sitting on top of the morning newspaper, the sunlight coming through the window and glinting off the hammer’s proud edges.

Steve paused.

Thor would be honored to be in such company.

Steve reached out, hesitating as his fingertips brushed against the well-worn leather of the strap.

He already knew he couldn’t lift it.

It really would be an honor. Thor had hit the nail on the head, so to speak.

Steve’s fingers wrapped lightly around the handle. He bent his elbow.

Mjolnir came up.

Steve’s eyes widened. His hand shook. He gasped and put the hammer down, just a little more firmly than necessary. The table’s legs creaked.

Steve hurried up the stairs and threw clothes on and quickly as he could, panic and wonderment battling in an adrenaline-like rush through his veins.

He and Thor worked their way quickly through the pile of logs, splitting them all into even quarters and then trekking back and forth to the tarp that the already split ones were hidden away from the elements under. Steve paused, lifting the hem of his shirt to pat the sweat from his brow and rubbing his slick arms against his sides.

Thor crowded him against the side of the house. They were just below the kitchen window. His eyes glittered with good humor. His smile was amused and hungry at once.

“You are very quiet.”

Steve looked up through his eyelashes, unable to stop the smile from appearing on his lips. He nearly swooned. Thor’s hair looked like spun gold around his face with the sun burning behind him. He smelled vaguely of salt, strawberries from breakfast still on his breath.

“I am sorry I did not stay. I was not sure you’d want the others to know. Everything happened very suddenly.”

“It’s okay.”

“Good.”

Thor leaned down and captured his lips in a kiss. Steve’s hands fluttered around, falling first on Thor’s chest and then his hips and then leading his arms as they snaked around Thor’s torso and pulled him close.

Steve’s heart was thundering in his chest when Thor let him come up for air. “Thor, I need to tell you something.” His lips felt like someone had touched them with a live wire.

Thor frowned, “It was only for a night then?” He started to pull away. Steve fisted his hands tight in the back of Thor’s shirt, holding him still.

“No. No, that’s not it.” He could feel his cheeks get warm and was annoyed with himself over the number of times he’d blushed over the last few days. “Not at all.”

Thor’s lips split into a smile that crinkled his eyes at the corners. “Then what is it?” He kissed Steve again, soft against the corner of his mouth.

There was a crack of thunder that made them both jump. Thor turned in the direction of the sound. Steve leaned to the side in time to see the column of light and swirling wind and dust retract back into the sky. Inside, the open window offered access to the sound of work boots pounding against the floorboards. Within seconds a window upstairs was thrown open. Steve looked up to see the tip of an arrow glinting in the sun.

“Don’t move!” Barton shouted. “You move and I shoot! Who the hell’re you?”

A faint smell of smoldering grass wafted across the yard. Someone was standing in the middle of the brand on the lawn from the Bifrost, sapphire-colored cloak flapping elegantly around their shoulders.

“Fear not, Midgardian!”

Thor pulled away and shaded his eyes, peering across the yard, “Fandral!”

“Thor!”

“Barton! It is alright, he is a friend!”

“You sure?”

“Very!” Steve jogged after Thor as he took off across the lawn, meeting Fandral half-way. “What is wrong? Is it Thanos? The Elves? The Kree?” Steve could heard the edge of panic in Thor’s voice. Clearly someone from Asgard would have come to fetch him only in an emergency.

“Calm, my friend! I come with congratulations and glad tidings.” Steve could see that Fandral was barely holding a laugh back. His eyes widened in amusement when he looked at Steve.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, it is a happy day when the future king of Asgard has been married.”

“What? You’re mad. Or simply quite terrible at joking as of late.”

Fandral raised a brow and gave Steve the once-over. “And might I say, you’ve chosen quite the beautiful bride-groom.”

Steve made a face, wrinkling his nose. “What the hell is going on?”

“Oh my, I’ve got _quite_ the bit of news for the two of you.”

***

Lila giggled and covered her mouth with both hands, “You’re _married_!”

Clint was squinting across the table with a distrustful look on his face. Laura looked caught between bewilderment and amusement. Cooper’s brows crashed together in confusion.

“Thor and Captain America can’t be married.”

“And why not, young man?”

“They didn’t go’da church. Or see a judge-person and sign papers. And they don’t have any rings.”

Lila giggled again, “They haven’t _kissed_ either.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. Heat flared up the back of his neck. His ears turned red. Laura started shooing the kids away from the table, telling them to go back downstairs to pick their dancing tournament back up where they’d left off. Nathaniel whined, Clint immediately scooped him up, avoiding all eye contact.

“How can we possibly be married? We’ve never even left the house. It’s just been the four of us and the kids. I don’t get it.”

“Neither do I.” Thor frowned and crossed his arms. “I think that I would know it if I’d run off to another realm to be married, Fandral.”

The dashing warrior ran through the events of the previous day. He emphasized perfectly innocent things that _somehow_ made sense in some warped way.

They’d given Gyda special attention—an animal considered sacred to Thor. They’d exchanged rings—no, circlets of flowers. They had used their weapons, joining together as a unit. There’d been some kind of blood sacrifice—Steve sucked on his bottom lip, no trace of the split remaining save for the tactile memory of Thor’s finger sweeping across his skin. They’d had a footrace and crossed the threshold together. They’d feasted with loved ones and shared a cup. They’d been witnessed in a private chamber together.

They’d consummated their union.

At that, Clint excused himself from the table, claiming he thought Nathaniel needed to be changed. Laura seemed at a loss for words. She squeezed Steve’s hand under the table before she left the room as well.

Steve had been newly groomed. Thor had offered him a special gift.

“I did nothing of the sort.”

“You asked him to lift Mjolnir.”

“And he declined.”

“Are you quite sure?”

Steve gulped hard. He spoke softly, “I said I wanted to talk to you.” He felt like he was being scolded by the principal at school. Thor rose from his seat and crossed to the living room in a few long strides.

Mjolnir was lying down beside the stack of newspapers on the table where Steve had left it.

Thor’s expression cycled between alarmed and overjoyed. He took a step toward Steve and then stopped. “Even so, there is no way we can be married. Even if all that you say is true.”

Heimdall had been watching, checking in on the prince while he scanned Midgard for any trouble requiring Asgard’s attention. When he noticed the sequence of events and the meaning they might hold if someone were to reach for it, he’d alerted Odin.

Freya had been watching as well, using her own resources when the rumors had reached her.

“Amora is positively _furious_ , by the way. She’s ready to find her way here and kill your darling husband.” Steve blanched. “It would have been a quiet thing if Freya had not stuck her nose in. She is still bitter over that time we bartered her hand for Mjolnir’s safe return… and when she was nearly handed over in exchange for the wall—you know, with the horse—“ Thor put a hand up to stop Fandral for going any further. “She alerted the Council. Odin was forced to consider their opinion.”

“And what of it?”

“Much to Freya’s delight, they’re inclined to view the union as valid and binding. The way they see it, it’s a valuable alliance—one of Midgard’s most celebrated warriors, a symbol of goodness and strength, united with the Prince of Asgard, wielder of Mjolnir and all that implies. It puts Asgard’s stamp on Midgard, sends a message to the wider realms.”

“And if we refuse?”

“The Council is prepared to enforce the usual penalties in the strictest sense.”

Steve was worried by the angry look on Thor’s face. “I don’t understand. What penalties?”

“Well, there is no dowry, no bride-price to return or award… but you did offer your new spouse the virtual keys to the kingdom. You told him outright you would be honored by his company in the ability to lift the hammer, you offered him the chance to attempt it, implied an assurance that he could. And as you can see now, he accepted that gift.”

Steve was horrified by what he thought Fandral was saying.

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You will have to forfeit Mjolnir.”

“I will not play into these petty games.”

“Odin has bidden me to tell you that he will not allow the hammer to leave Asgard’s possession. You must consider this carefully.”

“And they do not consider Steve in any of this? His opinion? His feelings?”

“When has the Council ever cared for much more than what was in the Council’s best interest? I promise you, your father, the Warriors and Sif and I—we all argued in your favor. They would not hear it.”

“My father is the _king_.”

“And his hands are tied. Asgard’s alliances are shaky at best since the Convergence. With the Council insisting upon Mjolnir as a penalty for dissolving the union, things are complicated. No one would see the hammer fall into the hands of a Midgardian—worthy as he is or not. That Vision fellow makes them all nervous enough.”

Steve sat down hard on the couch, overwhelmed. He laughed out loud, his pitch rivaling Lila’s. “Well, it is legal here, now.”

Fandral raised a brow. Thor explained what Steve meant—two men joined in marriage.

***

Fandral left hours later after several loud and one-sided arguments. “My friend, I would love to say you should only consider yourself and your unwitting husband, I cannot in good faith. We have shared each other’s trust since our youth for good reason and I dare not fail you now when so much is on the line. Frigga is dead. Odin is weak in spirit at the very least. The Council would see you take your place as leader sooner rather than later. An alliance with Midgard of this nature is fortuitous. Let them have their way. It does not mean that the two of you cannot continue here as if nothing has changed.” Fandral lowered his voice an octave, “With all that has happened as of late—especially with the Kree and the release of the Terrigen and the,” he paused, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Inhumans? Is that what they call themselves? The Nine need to see that we have a handle on the situation. It’s not a secret any more. You are Midgard’s Protector—so _protect it._ ”

“I will go back to Asgard and stop this. I will not let them make you their puppet.”

“Thor, I-I-I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about.”

They orbited around each other all evening. Clint wondered whether or not this was an issue that needed to be brought to the Avengers’ attention. Thor insisted he would handle things.

After dinner, Lila knelt on the floor beside the coffee table, newspaper spread across it, and dragged a plastic-y brush loaded with paint across a heavy sheet of paper. “When you have a real wedding—not a space wedding—can I be the flower girl?”

Steve stood and walked out the front door, going to sit on the steps. He could hear Lila wondering if she’d done something wrong and Laura’s quiet assurance that she hadn’t.

Thor’s heavy footfalls came across the porch. “I can’t do this to you.”

“You’ve done nothing, Steve.”

“If it’ll make things easier for you—if it’ll keep things in balance, your political alliances, the realms, whatever—I’ll do whatever you need me to.”

“Steve—“

“I mean, it’s not like we’re really _together_. Right? And it’s not like anybody here would recognize any of that as legally binding. It wouldn’t fuck anything up for you and Jane—I know you guys aren’t, y’know, official right now, but if you ever wanted to be—.”

“Steve, stop.”

“What?”

“Think of _yourself_ for once.”

Thor sat beside him. They stared out at the moonlight-drenched lawn and the shadows cast by the barn and trees.

“I think… I think I want to try to make this work.” Steve gulped. “If you do.”

“You’re certain? I will not have something hoisted onto you, onto our partnership… I will not do to you what I won’t do to Jane. This must be your decision. Council be damned.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah.”

Thor gripped his hand and brought Steve’s knuckles to his lips. “Take some time to really think this through, Steve.” He turned back out to the wide yard, staring critically at the sky. “Talk it over with someone—Sam, that lovely woman—Sharon was her name? Someone you trust. Someone who has your best interests at heart. I will not push you one way or the other.”

***

Steve stood looking out at the property surrounding the Avengers facility.

So much had changed since it had opened.

The team had broken up and reformed more times than he could count.

More recruits had come through than he could put names and faces to.

His friends were gone, their children grown—their children quickly growing up as well.

They’d fought enemies and died and come back and died again.

He’d loved and lost.

And still, here he was—a man out of time.

Steve looked up at the sky and took a deep breath. “Heimdall?”

The sky lit up with a column of brilliant color, wind whipped around him. Thor appeared on the other end of the roof, standing in the middle of the Bifrost’s brand. “Hello, husband.” He grinned at their customary greeting.

Steve laughed and walked to him. Thor wrapped strong arms around him, hugging him tight. Steve melted into his warmth. In all of the constant changing of the world, Thor had been a singular constant. Whether they were together as lovers or together as teammates and friends, he was the one thing that persisted through the years since their accidental union.

“Thor, I’m tired.”

“Then I will bring you home at long last. We can cross the threshold properly this time.”

“I’d like that.”

In the morning, Agent Nathaniel Barton would find Steve’s room empty of his personal belongings and a note entrusting the vibranium shield to Danielle Cage.

**Author's Note:**

> [You can find all of the information that I used to approximate an accidental Viking wedding through this article.](http://www.vikinganswerlady.com/wedding.shtml) It's actually really interesting and if you have any interest at all in history or Viking culture, you should give it at least a good skim. To save space and not have these notes be a million miles long, [you can click here](http://onheil-ferguson.tumblr.com/private/135538292720/tumblr_nzdya6NqXS1tw9cz4) and see a very loose outline of the wedding that I followed. I did't do it to a T, obviously, just enough to get Asgard's attention. When I got the prompt I immediately thought of that episode of _Full House_ where DJ gets married by walking around the table. I decided though, that I didn't want one person to know what was happening while the other was in the dark. I wanted them both taken by surprise by it.
> 
> The goat's name is Gyda after Ragnar's daughter on _Vikings_. Clint's son, Cooper, thinks he's funny and decides it sounds like Gouda, a cheese (and city in South Holland) that is definitely not made with goat milk. Amora appears in the comics and often tries to seduce Thor. [The trapeze date](http://newyork.trapezeschool.com/classes/trapeze.php) is the tiniest of winks at Clint's comic history. For the life of me I can't remember if his circus days are mentioned at all in the MCU. "Railroad" refers to a railroad apartment. Steve has been given Evans's haircut by the end of the story.
> 
> The title is in reference to the myth in which Mjolnir is stolen and in order to get it back, Freya must marry the thief in exchange. She refuses to be bartered so Thor goes to the wedding dressed as a bride and Loki as the bridesmaid. The whole time, Thor is _barely_ attempting to conceal who he is and everyone in attendance takes Loki's very weak explanations for his decidedly unladylike behavior in stride. Thor, of course, gets the hammer back in the end. The Norse gods seem to wind up in a pickle that somehow involves Freya getting married or promised to someone against her will quite often. The other incident Fandral refers to is the one that ended in Sleipnir's birth.
> 
> Danielle Cage is Jessica Jones and Luke Cage's daughter. In an alternate future-universe of the comics, during the _Ultron Forever_ event, she is Captain America. I haven't read the event, but it did come out earlier this year.


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